The Devil's Mistress
by Dana Keylits
Summary: A christmas present for my friend and #1 fan, Kristy. This is a story she requested that brings back one of season six's creepiest characters. Kate is abducted and it's a race against time to save her before her life is changed forever. In five parts. Mild spoilers for 6x09 "Disciple." Disclaimer: The characters and settings are not mine, they belong to Andrew Marlowe and friends.
1. Chapter 1

**The Devil's Mistress  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter One: Taken**

She woke up in a fog, her head pounding, a funny taste at the back of her throat, and a knot forming at the base of her skull. She winced, and then blinked, her pupils dilating, instinctively seeking enough light with which to scan her unfamiliar surroundings.

The last time she'd woken up like this she'd been cuffed to Castle, and they'd barely escaped being eaten by a hungry, and _very _pissed off Tiger. She quickly looked to her right and tried to reach out, but her hands were bound in front of her with duct tape, her ankles too. She immediately regretted the effort, the pounding in her head growing exponentially, and she closed her eyes and winced.

_Think, think, think! _she berated herself. She remembered leaving the precinct, she remembered sensing someone behind her, but after that, nothing.

Just darkness.

She blinked against the low light, her heart thundering in her chest. She took a steadying breath, then another. _Calm down, Kate. Calm down and assess your surroundings. _As her eyes adjusted, she scanned the space around her and spotted an unusual shape off to her right and in the corner. She tried to focus on it but it was too dark and whatever was there was hidden by shadows cast from the dim bare bulb that hung in the center of the room.

She had been dumped on a mat on the floor, a yoga mat by the feel of it. The room felt small, since it didn't echo, and the lone window to Kate's right was blacked out with construction paper. Kate couldn't tell if she was in a house or a commercial building, but it was warm and she could hear the whir of a furnace running somewhere, could feel the occasional draft of heat as it drifted over her face. There was also a funny smell, flowery like perfume, it seemed familiar too, she'd smelled that scent before and she struggled to bring up the memory of where, or on _whom_.

She heard a rustling from the corner and she froze, holding her breath, straining to hear.

She wasn't _alone_!

She could hear the measured breaths, could imagine the rise and fall of the person's chest as they filled their lungs with air and then exhaled. They were calm, steady, _unafraid_.

"I know you're here," Kate said, her voice sounding surprisingly composed, confident, _threatening_ even in spite of the score of butterflies that had just taken off in her stomach. She struggled to sit up. "I don't know what you think you're doing, I don't know what you want, but I am a detective with the NYPD and you've just borrowed a whole lot of trouble."

Nothing.

"My partner will be looking for me, and when he finds out I'm missing, you _will_ have the full force of the New York Police Department raining down on your head."

Still nothing. Whoever it was, was extremely calm, cool, enjoying this, enjoying _her_.

Unless.

Maybe they'd been kidnapped, too. Maybe it was Castle! Maybe he was unconscious and lying in a heap just outside of her reach, outside of her view.

"Hello?" She said again. "Castle. Is that you?"

She heard the rustling again, and then the shape in the corner moved, and Kate realized the odd shape had actually been a _person_. They'd stood up and were slowly coming towards her, _agonizingly_ slowly, step by measured step, the sound of their shoes muffled by the ringing in Kate's ears. She still couldn't quite see them past the bare bulb, which was now blinding her in spite of its dimness.

"Who are you?" She shouted. "What do you want?" Panic was settling in and Kate briefly squeezed her eyes closed to try and gain her composure. She took a steadying breath and asked again, her voice calmer. "What do you want?"

The figure moved closer, stepping within the arc of light from the bare bulb and Kate gasped as she simultaneously realized _who_ the person was, and _where_ she'd previously smelled that perfume.

A wicked smile curving her captor's lips, she emitted a gentle laugh and crossed her arms. "Hello, again, Detective Beckett."

Kate's stomach dropped.

Dr. Kelly Nieman stepped closer and then silently crouched in front of Kate, her expression warm and cold at the same time, sending a chill down Kate's spine.

"It's lovely to see you again."

"What do you want with me?" Kate hissed. "Why have you done this?"

Dr. Nieman reached out, skimming Kate's cheek with one icy finger, her gaze following the indistinct path that her fingernail had just traced into Kate's alabaster skin. "Don't be afraid," she whispered, withdrawing her hand. "I'm here to _help_ you."

Kate shuddered, keenly aware that the kind of 'help' Dr. Nieman was offering, was not going to be very _helpful_. She held up her hands. "Then take these off and let me out of here. Let me go now, and you can still get away," Kate argued, trying to appeal to whatever sense of self-preservation Kelly Nieman possessed. "The longer you keep me, the worse it will be for you," Kate warned, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Dr. Nieman simply stared at Kate, that same malevolent smile bowing her lips, her eyes darting from Kate's chin to her nose to her forehead to her lips and finally her eyes, but not looking _at _Kate, but rather, _through_ her.

Kate thought she heard the woman moan, and another shiver rippled down the column of her spine.

_Fuck._

She might actually be in real trouble here, and Kate realized that she needed to think fast if she was going to get out of it. Ignoring the bile rising from her throat, the rapid pounding of her heart, she asked again. "What do you _want?"_

Dr. Nieman cocked her head, her tongue darting out to briefly wet her lips. "Why, I thought that was clear, Detective." She wore a genuinely puzzled expression. "I want _you_." She smiled, her eyes brightening as they stared at Kate's lips. "And, with enough time," She stood up, calmly smoothing out the creases in her dark pencil skirt. "…you'll want _me_, too."

* * *

**T**he door closed with a bang and Castle jumped, interrupted from his latest chapter by the whirling pair of redheads hurrying into his office. He looked up sharply.

"Dad!"

"What? What is it?" He looked from Alexis to his mother, worry sketched on both of their faces. "What's wrong?"

"Richard, we have a crisis on our hands," Martha stated, rubbing her forehead nervously before pointing her finger at him. "And _you_ need to fix it."

He held up both palms in surrender. "_What_ are you talking about?" He spied the shopping bags that hung from both of their hands, and surmised that his next Visa bill was going to be a big one.

"I got a text while we were out shopping," Alexis started.

Martha dropped her bags to the floor. "Alexis was trying on this darling little chiffon dress at the new boutique that opened down the corner? It's a lovely place, but the dressing rooms are dreadfully small."

"Mother!"

"Right, sorry dear. Anyway, her phone chimed, or beeped, or whatever those infernal things do to let you know you've got mail."

"Text," Alexis corrected.

"Text, right, thank you darling."

"And, oh dear!" Martha held one gloved hand over her mouth.

"What?" Castle asked again, getting to his feet.

"She's coming, Dad."

"What? Who's coming?"

"The devil's _mistress_, that's who!"

"Gram," Alexis scolded.

"Sorry, dear," Martha apologized, not looking the least bit sorry.

"Who is coming!?" Castle shouted at the pair.

"Mom."

"Meredith?"

"Yes, Dad. She's coming and you have to stop her."

"Well, pumpkin. Don't you want to see your mother? It's been awhile, you know."

"Yes, of course I want to see her, to _visit._ But she said she's moving back to New York!"

Castle slumped into his chair with a thud and stared open-mouthed at his daughter. _Oh shit. Not this again. _

Martha nodded, "Uh huh, now you see, don't you?" She picked up her shopping bags and turned to walk out of his study. "Take care of it, Richard. Or your life is going to become a living _hell_!"

Alexis shrugged, giving her dad a resigned look. "Is it terrible I don't want her living here again? I mean, I love her, but, she's…"

"A lot to take in. Honey, I know. Don't worry. You're not a bad person. Not in the least."

"Thanks, Dad." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Gram invited Pi and me for dinner, you're okay with that, right?"

Castle's brain was already spinning a solution to the "M" problem and he barely heard her. He was going to have to open his checkbook and fund another movie in which Meredith would be at the top of the call sheet. Preferably something with a very long shooting schedule. It was the only thing that would keep her in L.A.

"Dad."

"What?" He jumped. "Oh, yes, honey, of course. I'd love to have you and," he paused "…_Pi_ here for dinner."

Alexis huffed and looked at him through narrowed eyes.

He softened. "Really, honey. I want you both here. Okay? I mean it."

She chewed her bottom lip and studied him. Seeing his effort to at least _pretend_ to accept her boyfriend, she smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

He nodded, watched her bounce out of the room, and then brought up his email to fire off a letter to a pair of L.A. Producers he knew. Surely, there was some project in the works he could fund, with the caveat that Meredith be given the starring role, of course.

He was so preoccupied with keeping Meredith in L.A. that he'd failed to realize that Kate was already an hour late. He'd left her at the precinct after lunch, wanting to work on his latest chapter in order to get it to his publisher under deadline, and she was supposed to be coming home as soon as she got off shift.

An hour ago.

Just as he was about to close his computer he heard the familiar ping that told him a new email had just landed in his inbox. He glanced at the sender, an unfamiliar address, and was about to click on the _close_ button when another email popped up.

And, this time, he _knew_ the sender. He stared at the screen, a brick landing in his stomach.

Dr. Kelly Nieman.

**A/N: Merry Christmas, KB. I hope you like it. :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**The Devil's Mistress  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Two**

"Okay, so just calm down and start from the beginning," Detective Esposito instructed as he cast shadows in front of Castle's desk, his pen poised over the slim leather-bound notebook cradled in his left hand.

"Javi, the _only_ thing I know is she's not picking up her phone, she's an hour and a half late getting home, and I got _this_ in my inbox." He spun the computer around.

Espo frowned, inching closer to examine the photograph that filled the MacBook's screen. He tucked his chin, vertical lines appearing between his troubled eyes. "What the _hell_?"

"I know! It's sick." Castle spat, pacing back and forth behind his desk, anxiously scrubbing his beard. "What are we gonna do? We have to find her!"

"Okay, you sent this to Ryan already, right?" Esposito asked.

Castle nodded, stopping mid-step in his incessant caged-animal-like path behind the desk. The knot in his stomach tugged tighter and tighter as the adrenalin coursed through him. Fight or flight and he was stuck doing neither. He raked his fingers roughly through his already tousled hair, leaving perfectly spaced parallel lines in their wake. "This is 3XK, Javi. He's got Beckett. He's…"

Esposito shook his head, snapping his notebook closed. "We don't know that, yet, bro. Don't assume the worst."

Castle exploded, pointing angrily at the computer screen, at the photograph of Kate, her closed eyes, her hair tucked into a blue shower cap, violent black lines drawn in precise patterns on her face.

The marks a plastic surgeon would make if she were going to cut into your skin.

_God, Beckett what is she doing to you? _He felt like he might actually vomit. Right there, right on Esposito's brand new Hush Puppies. And, he wouldn't feel the least bit sorry about it, either.

"How can you look at that and _not_ think the worst?" Castle choked, fighting back the impulse to pick up the computer and hurl it across the room.

"Richard, darling," Martha interrupted, standing in the doorway. "Beckett's father is here."

Castle dropped his arms to his sides and glared at his mother, snapping at her more harshly than he intended. "You _called_ him?"

"Of course I called him," Martha replied flatly. "He's her father. He should know."

Castle exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as he prayed to whatever God in the Universe would bestow upon him the patience to deal with his mother…and Beckett's father. Softening his tone, he nodded. "I'm sorry. You're right." He closed the laptop. The last thing he needed now was for Jim Beckett to accidentally see the disturbing image of his daughter. Shooting Javi a frustrated glance, he followed Martha into the living room.

Jim was standing at the front door, his gloves twisted in one hand. He looked up at Castle anxiously. "What's happened to Katie, Rick?" Accepting Martha's offer to take his coat, he shrugged out of the heavy garment and stared expectantly at Castle. "Where's my daughter?"

The obvious panic etched on Jim Beckett's face had the odd effect of tempering Castle's own rising terror. Castle knew his task now was to reassure Kate's father, she would insist he do no less, and this assignment somehow allowed him to set aside his darker instincts, his greatest fears, even if only temporarily.

He drew in a lungful of air, gesturing at the dining room table. "Please, Jim. Sit down. I'll tell you everything. Can we get you some coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

Castle signaled his mother, ridiculously simulating a cup of coffee and saucer with his hands, complete with his pinky finger jutted out. But, she was already watching the black liquid filter into the pot, rendering his pantomime unnecessary. He stuffed his hands in his front pockets.

Her hand perched on the refrigerator door, she asked, "Jim, do you take cream? Sugar?"

"Black," he replied.

"That's right," Martha nodded, remembering.

Esposito hurried out of the study, tucking his cell phone in his inside jacked pocket. He nodded at Jim. "Sir."

"Hello, Detective."

"Castle. Ryan is, ah," he glanced at Jim Beckett, hoping to avoid any additional worry for the man. "Analyzing the evidence. He's also working on a trace of the IP address from the computer that sent you that email. In the meantime, uniforms are canvasing her last known steps, doing everything they can to see if anyone saw _anything_. We're running phone and financials, see if her debit card was used, if she made any calls. We can't get a trace on her phone, which means it's been completely shut off, but the minute it gets turned back on, we can get a location from her GPS. Also, Ellis is analyzing surveillance video in and around the Twelfth." He stopped to take a breath. "We've got this, bro," he tried to reassure his friend. He shifted his gaze to Mr. Beckett. "We're _going_ to find her. Even Captain Gates is cutting her vacation a day short and flying in tonight to help."

"Thank you, Espo," Castle offered. "Keep me…" he looked at Jim, "…us," he clarified, "…posted. Anything. Everything. No matter how small. Okay?"

"Roger that," Esposito confirmed, back-walking towards the front door. He glanced at Martha. "Mrs. R." He nodded.

"Good evening, Detective," Martha replied, bowing her head as she hurried around the kitchen counter with three mugs of freshly prepared coffee in her hands. "And, thank you."

The door clicked quietly shut behind Esposito, and Castle sat down at the head of the table.

Martha distributed the mugs and then sat down next to Jim, patting his hand. "I'm so sorry, Jim, but we must stay optimistic. We have to believe that Kate can take care of herself, and she has the _whole_ New York Police Department out looking for her."

Jim nodded, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. He looked at Castle. "Can you tell me what happened, now?"

Castle cleared his throat, inching towards the edge of his chair and folding his hands on the table in front of him. "Do you remember when I was arrested? Accused of murdering that girl?"

"Yes," Jim nodded, puzzled.

"Well, I believe that the man who orchestrated that, is now orchestrating _this." _He took a sip of his coffee before continuing, and then spent the next hour bringing Kate's father up to speed on everything they knew about Jerry Tyson, Kelly Nieman, and the extraordinary lengths 3XK might go to seek his revenge. He left out the most disturbing parts, the most gruesome details, but he didn't couch the truth in euphemisms or false hope.

At the end of their conversation, Jim drew in a lungful of air, letting it out in one long tortured sigh. He glanced down at his trembling hands, and then steeled his features. "Well, Rick. It seems to me that you have two jobs right now." Worry lines crisscrossed his forehead. "You need to find Katie." He paused, staring at Castle, making sure the younger man knew he expected absolutely _no_ less. And then he slammed his fist against the table. Which was such an uncharacteristic gesture that it caught both Castle and Martha off guard and they jumped simultaneously. "And then you need to find this son of a bitch, and put him _under_ the jail."

Castle leaned back, resolve written in every line and shadow on his face. "Oh, we will, Sir," Castle confirmed, his determination reflected in the deep blue of his eyes as they met Jim Beckett's blazing glare. "Trust me. We _will_!"

* * *

**S**he'd been sedated again, for how long she was out of it she had no clue, but when she woke up she was in a different room. It was cooler in here, and she was on a hard surface, a metal table by the feel of it. Her arms were bound to the table, her wrists inserted into leather straps, her ankles too. She had a shower cap on her head, and she could tell something had been drawn on her face, she could just make out the smudge of a pen mark on her nose, under her eyes.

_Oh, God._

Her stomach turned as she quickly realized what Dr. Nieman had in store for her.

The room was tiled, and a bank of surgical lights hung above her head. They were dormant now, the room was barely lit, and it appeared she was alone.

At least, for the moment.

She heard a door squeak open and then slowly close, an elongated creak slicing through the silence of the chilled room. She craned her neck, struggling to see, but she was too firmly bound. Recognizing the click of expensive heels against hard tile, Kate wanted to scramble off the table like a scalded dog. But she was paralyzed, tethered to the slab by unyielding leather and brass and all she could do was lay there, the firm press of hard steel against her spine a reminder of just how vulnerable she was at that moment.

_Shit!_

"Oh, good. You're awake." She walked around the table to smile down at Kate. "I think we're ready to begin, Detective," Kelly purred. She was wearing a set of salmon colored scrubs, her hair gathered up in a tight cap, surgical gloves protecting her hands. "Are you comfortable?"

Kate would have laughed, if she weren't restrained, drugged, and at the mercy of a clearly mentally unstable plastic surgeon -yeah, except for _that,_ she'd have laughed at how very much the part of Mad Doctor, Kelly Nieman looked.

Kate bucked against her restraints, panic colonizing her as every cell and fiber of her body screamed at her to get the hell out of there! Her heart slammed against her chest and she looked around wildly for any avenue of escape. Instinctively knowing there were none.

"Now, now," Kelly whispered, leaning down, her face inches from Kate's, a maniacal grin on her lips. "Don't worry." She held Kate by the chin and hovered there for several seconds before saying anything, her smile growing wider. "You are an extraordinarily _beautiful_ woman, Detective. Do you know that? Very attractive. _Stunning_, even." She held up one finger, arched one scolding eyebrow. "But not _perfect_.

Kate tried to jerk away, her attempt just north of feeble as the doctor held her with a vice-like grip. "Keep your hands off of me!" she hissed, fighting her restraints. She tasted bile in the back of her throat and worried she might vomit. She couldn't let that happen, couldn't let Dr. Nieman see even the slightest trace of fear, of weakness. She swallowed it down, and it was the hardest thing she'd done so far that day.

"But, I can make you _perfect_, Kate." Dr. Nieman glared at her with an air of genuine puzzlement, as though Kate's objections were utterly ridiculous. "Why wouldn't you want that?"

This wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about 3XK. It wasn't even about Kate. It was about Dr. Nieman's obsession with perfection, and it immediately dawned on Kate that this was a _whole_ different ball game. She tempered her fear, swallowed her outrage, steadying her nerves. "You can still let me go, Kelly. You can still get away. Because, If you _do_ this, if you hurt me…" Kate paused, hoping her next words would sink into the mad doctor's clearly demented grey matter. "…you _will_ be hunted down. You will be _put_ down. Do you understand?"

Dr. Nieman frowned and roughly released Kate's chin from her icy grip. Straightening up, she huffed. "Oh, Detective. Don't be dramatic. I have no _intention_ of hurting you."

Kate took a breath.

She picked up a scalpel. "I'm only going to make you _better." _


	3. Chapter 3

**The Devil's Mistress  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Three**

"Wait!" Kate shouted, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice, the panic that had quickly reduced her once steely demeanor to nothing more than the courage of an asthmatic teenager. "Stop. Kelly, please, don't do this." She balled her hands into fists, her fingernails leaving crescent shaped indents in the palm of her hand, even as she tried to wiggle out of the uncompromising restraints.

Dr. Nieman frowned, but halted her forward progression, holding the scalpel in mid-air as she glared at Kate with complete disbelief. "What is it?" She barked, not a trace of good humor or patience in her tone.

"I don't want to be _perfect_," Kate blurted, her mind spinning in a chaotic loop as she desperately attempted to engage the mad doctor in conversation for as long as she could. Surely, by now, Castle knew she was missing, and he'd be looking for her. They'd _all_ be looking for her.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dr. Nieman dismissed. "_Everyone_ wants to be perfect."

Kate vehemently shook her head. "No, no. I don't. I want to stay the way I am."

Dr. Nieman placed the scalpel back on the instrument tray that she'd perched precariously on a cart beside the table. She held up one gloved finger. "You just _think_ you like the way you are, Detective." She smiled sweetly. "But, once I'm done with you, you'll see. You'll be grateful. You'll be _perfect_."

Kate shook her head. "No, no. I don't _want_ to be perfect."

Dr. Nieman folded her arms across her chest. "Of course you do."

"No," Kate protested.

"Yes, you _do_, Detective!" Dr. Nieman shrieked, losing her composure. "You _do_ want perfection. Of _course_ you do. You just don't _know_ it yet." Beads of perspiration dotted the doctors forehead, the first sign that perhaps she wasn't as well put together as she liked to project. Her eyes blazing, her color reddening, Kate could practically see the steam shooting from her ears.

"I like the way I look," Kate calmly stated. "I'm happy just as I am."

Dr. Nieman's agitation was growing exponentially, and Kate hoped that continuing on this track would distract her long enough to buy Castle some time. _But, be careful, Kate,_ she thought, _she's got a whole tray of sharp instruments, and fingers that are just itching to cut into your flesh_.

Dr. Nieman glared at Kate through narrowed eyes, her nostrils flaring, her breathing heavy. She began muttering, her voice so low that Kate could barely hear her. She appeared to be having an animated conversation with herself, or the voices in her head, or some imaginary person standing on the other side of the table. Whatever the case, it had the inexplicable effect of calming her down.

And, that was _bad_.

_Very_ bad.

Dr. Nieman finally wagged one finger at Kate. "I see what you're doing here, Detective," she cautioned, picking up a syringe and checking its contents. "I _understand_." She approached the table and smiled wickedly, having regained her earlier Hannibal Lecter-like composure. "_Everyone_ fears change, it's perfectly normal to have _some_ reservations." She held the syringe up in front of Kate's face and gazed down at her sympathetically. She caressed the line of Kate's eyebrow with one glove-covered finger. "We _all_ wonder if the devil we know is better than the devil we don't know."

Taking her cue from the syringe, Kate tried a different tactic, hoping to appeal to the woman's vanity, her obvious narcissistic grandiosity. "Doctor. Tell me, please. Before you do this, before you make me perfect, tell me what…"

Dr. Nieman plunged the syringe into Kate's cheek, and, shocked, confused, utterly bewildered, Kate's thoughts bizarrely turned to how this would play in the press. This was precisely the kind of senseless brutality that would grab headlines for the next twenty-four hours, making people _tsk_ _tsk_ and shake their heads.

And, then the dead cop memorials would begin.

* * *

"**A**re you sure?" Captain Gates asked, her hands on her hips, her coat and luggage dumped unceremoniously on the floor of her office. She'd come right from the airport.

"Yes, Sir," Esposito confirmed. "The video clearly shows Dr. Nieman injecting Kate with _something_." He gestured at his neck as though inoculating himself with an invisible syringe. "And, then leading her into the back of a waiting limo."

"Plates?"

Espo shook his head.

"Dammit!" She cursed, exhaling loudly. "Okay, I want to see the video."

"On it," Esposito replied. "We've got it queued up in the other room."

They hurried to the conference room where a murder board had been set up, the disturbing photograph of an unconscious Beckett hanging front and center. Gates stared at it, shaking her head. "And, to think we had this woman in our very house." She frowned at Esposito. "We can't let her slip through our fingers again, Detective."

"No, Sir," Esposito agreed.

He punched play on the remote and they watched the surveillance footage taken from the cameras mounted outside the Twelfth. Kate appeared thirty seconds into the video, walking down the steps, pulling on her gloves. When she reached the sidewalk, she turned right, and just as she came into profile on the video, Dr. Nieman strolled up calmly behind her, plunged a syringe into her neck, and then hustled her into the back of a limousine that was idling perpendicular to the parked squad cars.

"That takes brass," Gates muttered, shaking her head. "To take one of our own _right under our nose _like that?" She turned to Esposito who was nodding in agreement. "Play it again."

Captain Gates watched the film three more times before, on the fourth review, she hissed, "Freeze." Esposito hit pause and she pointed at the stilled image. "Look."

He peered at the image and then zoomed in. Standing across the street from the precinct were a couple taking pictures. Stills, by the look of it, and they were angled in such a way that if they'd snapped the camera at just the right moment, they might have gotten an image of the limo's license plate.

She tapped at the screen. "We need to find _them_. Make a copy of this, get it out to the media, let's see if anyone comes forward."

"It's a long shot, Captain."

"It's a shot," she argued. "Get on it."

* * *

**C**astle had offered to take Jim home when he'd left for the precinct, but Martha had protested, saying this was not the time for Beckett's father to be alone. "Nonsense!" She'd argued. "You stay here with us," she gestured at Alexis and Pi. "We're all part of Kate's family now. We all need to stay together."

Jim nodded and Castle reassured him. "I'll keep you informed. We'll find her."

Castle kissed Alexis on the cheek, reluctantly shook Pi's hand, and nodded at his mother. "Keep the door locked," he warned. "Just in case."

"Of course," she replied, following him to the foyer. She spun the deadbolt as soon as he was through the door, and then turned to face the others, clapping her hands together. "I know none of you are probably hungry, but I think we should eat."

Pi jumped up, "I'll help."

"Oh, Pi. Darling. Thank you so much. But," she gestured for him to stay in his seat. "…as much as I enjoy your delightful fruitarian creations," she held her hands together as though in prayer and bowed her head. "I think this night calls for more traditional fare." She picked up the phone and glanced at Jim, one slender finger poised over the keypad, her bracelets jangling as they journeyed innocuously up her arm. "Jim, dear. Pepperoni or sausage?"

* * *

"**I** want you awake, Detective. But, I'm not a sadist," Dr. Nieman whispered. She withdrew the syringe, seeming to enjoy the way it had completely silenced Kate. "This is a numbing agent. You'll probably still have some pain. But, this will help." She laid the syringe on the table and Kate felt her cheeks and lips grow numb as the anesthesia journeyed through her nervous system, dulling her sensations.

Dr. Nieman slowly peeled off one of her gloves and inched closer, her finger poised above Kate's forehead. "You have _exquisite_ bone structure, Detective," she whispered. She traced the line of Kate's cheekbone, studying her face as though admiring a rare piece of art. She ran the pad of her finger along Kate's lower lip like a lover preparing for a kiss. "I know you've used these lips to kiss your partner," she stated matter of factly. "Mr. Castle, right?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I've _seen_ you."

Kate recoiled.

"I've seen the two of you _together_."

Kate whimpered, closing her eyes against this most personal of assaults, Kelly's words ringing in her ears like a harbinger of the macabre.

"I've seen the way he touches you, the way your body _responds_." She drew a gust of air in through her teeth, making a sucking sound that echoed from the tiled walls of the barren room, her eyes drifting to Kate's lips. "You look _almost_ perfect together."

"Stop," Kate choked.

Dr. Nieman laughed, softly, wickedly, the laughter of someone who was very much in control, someone who was thoroughly enjoying herself. "He will be grateful when I make these perfect." She gently tapped Kate's lips. "He will be _very_ grateful."

"Stop!" Kate screamed, struggling helplessly against her restraints, pain radiating up her wrists as the leather dug into her flesh. "Do _not_ touch me!" She scanned the room wildly, searching for anything, anything that could save her, could give her _time_. But the room was empty, her mind blank. Where were they? Where was Castle? Her heart sank as she realized she might actually be out of options.

She hadn't _really_ considered that possibility before.

As though immune to Kate's protests, as though deaf to her screams, Dr. Nieman painstakingly re-gloved her hand, picked up the scalpel and secured it between her thumb and fingers. She smiled at Kate, "You will be my greatest achievement, Detective."

As soon as she felt the cold steel against her skin, Kate whipped her head from side to side, immediately feeling the sting of the cut.

Dr. Nieman gasped, "Stop that!" She dropped the scalpel onto Kate's chest and grabbed the detective's head with both hands. She glared at her with heated eyes, and Kate thought she saw multicolored fireworks reflected in them. "_Now_, look what you've made me do!" A bit of spittle landed on Kate's face as Dr. Nieman struggled to maintain her composure. She reached for a pad of gauze on the instrument tray and held it to the bleeding wound. "You almost _ruined _it!" she scolded.

"Kelly, you still have time to stop this," Kate pleaded. "You still have time to get away."

"Oh, shut up!" Dr. Nieman barked. "I _had_ wanted you awake," she hissed, carefully replacing the gauze with steri-strips, meticulously placing them on Kate's skin as though repairing a priceless work of art. "I _had_ wanted you to experience this transformation _with _me." Her eyes grew misty, her expression sorrowful. "So we could enjoy it _together._" She held Kate's chin, squeezing her mouth so her lips puckered. "Like _lovers._" Kate shuddered._ "_And it would have been _good._ It would have been the best you'd ever had, Detective._" _ She let go roughly, disgust in her voice. "But, you've left me no choice now," She sad flatly. She crossed the room and opened a cabinet, pulling out an I.V. bag and kit and then wheeling over an I.V. cart. "I'm going to have to put you under."

Kate watched wide-eyed, wondering if this was what would would break her, what would finally cause her to shatter into a million pieces. She'd survived an assassin's bullet, her apartment being blown up by a determined serial killer, almost being eaten by a hungry tiger, nearly falling off the roof of a twenty story building, and Castle's ill-conceived _smorlette_. But would she survive this? Would she survive it if Dr. Nieman altered her face?

Would Castle?

Kate mulled her options, which were pitifully few, as Dr. Nieman prepared the I.V. She slid a steel tray from under the table, securing it so it jutted perpendicularly from the table and Kate watched in disbelief as Dr. Nieman moved to unbuckle her restraints.

This was her _chance_.

The scalpel lay forgotten on Kate's chest and she prayed with the fervor of a monk at vespers that Kelly wouldn't notice it, so distracted with her anger at Kate, her disappointment that this sick seduction she'd had planned was not going her way.

Kate held her breath.

Dr. Nieman slid the belt through the buckle and lifted it up to release the clasp.

As soon as Kate felt the belt loosen, knowing it was her only opportunity, and in spite of the pain in her wrists, the lack of blood flow to her numb fingers, she jerked her hand free, grabbed the neglected scalpel from her chest, and, with every last ounce of strength she possessed, lunged at Dr. Nieman.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Devil's Mistress  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Four**

The local news cut into regular programming, flashing photographs of both Detective Beckett and the grainy image of the couple who'd been taking pictures outside of the twelfth precinct, with instructions to call a hotline number if anyone had any information that would lead to Beckett's whereabouts, or the identity of the young couple. Within twenty-five minutes, over three hundred calls had been logged. Most of them crank callers; some of them from people who claimed to have seen Beckett at a mall or grocery store, one caller was positive that she was sitting at a strip club enjoying a lap dance. A couple of callers were mediums claiming to have 'inside' information.

And then, forty-seven minutes after the first alert aired on local television, a call came in from a man claiming to be one of the two people in the photograph. A uniform was dispatched to pick him, and his camera, up. And he was currently situated in the conference room, his SD card inserted into Ellis' computer as they scrolled through his photographs.

"It was a new camera, you know? So we were just screwing around, trying different settings," the young man explained, seemingly impressed that his day of screwing around might actually break one of the biggest cases of the year, the abduction of an NYPD detective by the mistress of one of the most notorious serial killers of their age.

Ellis quickly scrolled through the pictures until they reached a series of them that were taken near the Twelfth. She slowed down, until images of Beckett appeared, and Castle gasped, his throat constricting as he watched the photographs document his partner's abduction.

"Whoa," screwing-around-guy quipped. "I didn't even know that was _happening_. I was just snapping pictures. Holy shit! This is _epic_!"

Castle shot him an irritated glance, about to snap at him like an angry turtle on a hot day, when Ryan shot up from his chair. "I'm going to need you to come with me," he gestured at the man, waving him through the door. "We need to get your information, you know, for the reward."

"Whaaaat? There's a reward? Score!"

Castle gritted his teeth, closing his eyes against the gathering storm of rage building inside of him and he silently offered a prayer of thanks for Ryan's quick thinking, getting that little punk out of here.

"There it is," Gates pointed.

"Bam!" Esposito slammed his fist against the table. "Zoom in and print that," he instructed Ellis, who was already sending the image to the printer. Esposito snatched it from the tray. "Gonna run this," he mumbled, reaching for his phone as he stared at the grainy, but _perfect_ image of the limo's license plate.

"This is our break, Mr. Castle," Gates reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulder. "We're going to find her."

Castle nodded, biting his thumbnail. "Everyone keeps saying that," he muttered. "Including _myself_." He looked up at Gates with glassy, tortured eyes. "I just hope it's true."

* * *

**A**lexis and Pi cleared the table of the pizza boxes, the bowl of barely touched salad that Pi had insisted on throwing together, dressing it with a homemade vinaigrette that Martha had to admit was extraordinarily good, and the dishes that still held half-eaten wedges of pizza on them. While they'd barely made a dent in the food, at least they'd all put _something _in their bellies.

Martha started another pot of coffee as Jim retreated to the living room, rubbing his eyes, stifling a yawn, praying silently to his higher power that somehow, some way his daughter would be returned to them safely. Martha floated over, handed him the steaming mug as the kids finished the dishes. She was about to launch into another round of reassuring verses to offer him, when the phone rang.

They all stared at it.

Alexis picked up the cordless phone, a squeaky _hello_ passing her lips.

They stood up, watching the young redhead as she nodded. She covered the receiver and announced, "They have a plate, a limo rental, and an address." She nodded again. "They're going there now."

Martha clasped her hands together, leaning into Jim. "Oh, thank heavens!" she breathed, one hand fluttering to cover her mouth as she closed her eyes in relief. "They're going to find her, I just know it."

"From your lips to God's ear," Jim Beckett whispered, his face stoic, his optimism held safely at bay. He wasn't going to celebrate.

Not yet.

Not until he had his daughter safely in his arms.

* * *

**G**ates slammed the phone in its cradle and hurried from her office. "Warrant is coming through now. Go, go, go!" she ordered as Esposito and Ryan shot up from their chairs, grabbed their jackets and raced down the hall, disappearing down the staircase in less than twelve seconds.

"Wait," Castle called after them.

"You're with me, Mr. Castle," Gates informed him as she snatched the warrant from the printer and grabbed her keys. "Let's go."

* * *

**T**he blood splattered in concentric patterns across Kate's face, over her chest, running in rivulets down her arms, and she clutched the scalpel tightly as she struggled to free her other wrist, fighting against the rise of bile at the back of her throat, the thundering of her heart as the adrenalin coursed through her veins with the speed of a bullet train on a long trip.

Dr. Nieman sat crouched on the floor, her hands pressed against the open would Kate had just slashed across her chest, a look of horror, of disbelief, of _rage_ in her eyes. "You _bitch!" _She screamed. "I was trying to _help_ you, and _this_ is how you _thank me_?" She struggled to her feet, knocking over the instrument tray, sending a shower of needles and scalpels, clamps and other metal devices to the concrete, a deafening shattering sound assaulting their ears as the instruments skittered across the floor. She reached the cabinet in the corner, pulling out gauze and towels, attempting to stem the flow of blood. "He warned me. He told me to be careful," she muttered under her breath. "Oh, no. No, no, no. He's going to be so displeased."

Kate had managed to free her other wrist and was working on her ankles when she heard the explosion from the other room. Both she and Dr. Nieman stopped, staring at the door behind the surgical table. After half a second of deafening silence, Kate heard the sweetest sounds of her life, and suddenly everything took on a slow-motion-like ethereal quality.

"NYPD, show yourself!"

A cacophony of noise rippled through the door; angry voices, sounds of glass breaking, doors being opened and ripped from their hinges, dogs barking, boots hitting the ground, hands toppling furniture.

And one name, one name being repeatedly called from the mouths of familiar voices, from _his_ voice.

"Beckett! Beckett where are you?!"

She closed her eyes and exhaled. Then, glaring at Kelly, who was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, her hands still pressing the now blood-soaked towels to her chest, Kate took a deep breath and shouted, "I'm here! Castle! I'm here!"

As footsteps quickly approached, Dr. Nieman slowly smiled. She calmly crossed the room and stood against the far wall. "We'll meet again, Detective." She whispered.

And, before Kate even had the chance to realize what was happening, Kelly had opened a secret panel and disappeared through it.

Kate lunged at the final restraints, her fingers trembling as she attempted to release the buckle. "Castle!" She shouted. "I'm here!"

The door burst open and in flowed half a dozen well-armed, flak-jacketed cops, Ryan, Esposito, Castle and Captain Gates bringing up their rear. Castle hurried to stand behind her, and the sight of him, wearing his Kevlar with the word _WRITER_ emblazoned in white across the chest, the vest that she had so brusquely dismissed as unnecessary six years ago, had rolled her eyes at a million and one times, _immediately_ soothed her.

"Kate, oh my God!" he cried, rushing to her side, not sure of where he could touch her, alarmed by the blood that covered her in Rorschach like patterns.

She absently shook her head, warning him off. "Not my blood," she barked, pointing at the hidden door. "She went through there! Go!"

Everyone but Castle and Gates broke through the panel, the echo of boots descending concrete steps rising out of the hidden opening. Castle grabbed a towel and started wiping at Kate's face and neck while Gates finished releasing the final binding attached to her ankle.

"Kate," he whispered, fingering the steri-strip on her cheek. "You're cut."

Her finger floated up to touch the bandage. "That's _nothing_ compared to what she was _planning_ to do," she gestured in front of her face in a circular pattern. "In case you haven't noticed the artwork."

"She sent us a photograph," Gates replied, walking to stand beside Castle, one hand on her hip.

"What?"

"She emailed Mr. Castle. A photograph of you," she waved her hand in Kate's direction. "Unconscious, your face marked up with black pen."

"She was going to perform surgery," Kate informed them.

Gates took in the room, the blood, the fallen instruments, the scalpel that was still clutched tightly in Kate's fist, Kelly Nieman's blood dripping from it. "By the looks of it, Detective, _you're_ the one who performed an operation."

"I caught a lucky break," she started, distracted by the sounds of footsteps ascending the secret staircase. "Was able to take advantage of the crazy."

Esposito appeared through the doorway, a hang-dog look on his face. "We lost her," he admitted sourly.

"You _what?_" Captain Gates barked.

Kate raised her hand and let it fall in her lap, not surprised by this turn of events. "She easily had half-a-minute on them, Captain," she explained, defending her comrades. She glanced at Espo. "Where did the stairs lead?"

"Driveway out back."

"She probably had a car out there," Kate surmised, biting the inside of her cheek and shaking her head.

"And with no way of knowing what make or model, we're searching blind," Castle summarized.

"I don't care. Get uniforms to canvas the area, see if we can get a description of that vehicle and an APB on Kelly Nieman. She didn't just disappear into the ether," Gates ordered.

Kate swung her legs around the table and castle helped her stand up, cradling her elbow with the palm of his hand. She felt unsteady on her feet, but grateful to finally be vertical. She leaned into him heavily, savoring his familiar scent, the warmth and vibration of his body, the hum of his booming voice. She felt the swell of unbidden tears rimming her eyes, realizing she'd been genuinely worried she would never see him again.

It had been her greatest fear.

Esposito touched her elbow. "I'm glad you're okay, Beckett," he offered, squeezing her arm before heading out the door.

She smiled, glancing up at him through unfocused eyes. "Thanks, Javi."

"Let's get you to the hospital," Castle suggested, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her to the door.

"I'd rather just go home," Kate replied.

"You need to go to the hospital, Kate," Gates instructed. She gestured up and down. "You're evidence. They'll need to take pictures, gather forensic samples. And you really should have that cut looked at."

Kate nodded resignedly. "Fine, let's just get the hell out of here." She nestled into Castle's arms, letting him lead her through the busted-through door that hung on one hinge, gingerly side-stepping the mess left in the rest of the house by the police raid, out the front door and into a waiting ambulance.

"I'd better call home, let your dad know you're safe."

Kate looked at him sharply, annoyance framing her exhausted eyes. "You told my _dad_?"

**A/N: Merry Christmas to all of you on the other side of the world! Especially my favorite Aussie, KB! Chapter Five will be my Boxing Day gift to you! :-) Thank you all so much for your enthusiasm and kind words. It is much appreciated. One more chapter left! **


	5. Chapter 5

**The Devil's Mistress  
**By Dana Keylits

**Chapter Five**

After convincing the E.R. staff that the blood was not hers, Kate was able to get through the forensic exam quickly enough. Her clothes were photographed and then bagged and she was given a pair of blue scrubs to change into. Castle, his mind always working, had tried to keep things light by suggesting they play _doctor_ later, wagging his brows and flashing his baby-blue's at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that impossibly adorable way they do.

And, it had worked. His boyish wiles had made her laugh, had made her _forget_, at a time when she wasn't sure she would ever be able to replace the image of Kelly Nieman and her crooked grin, her maniacal scalpel, her twisted quest for perfection.

But, Castle had done it. Just by being himself and Kate had blushed, gazing up at him through the long fan of lashes that framed her hazel eyes. She'd offered him a weak smile, a chuckle, a promise of _maybe later_.

He rubbed her back and nodded. Knowing how to do subtle, too.

Her laceration was examined by a pimply-faced, fresh-out-of-med-school, hard-to-believe-he-was-actually-a-_doctor_, doctor. He'd cheerily declared Dr. Nieman's application of Steri-strips to be sufficient, but Kate had insisted he change the bandages. Castle had nodded knowingly, prepared to jump in and insist if Dr. _Opie_ hadn't agreed to do it. Kate might have to live with a scar, but she shouldn't have to walk around with bandages administered by a lunatic, a reminder of what that woman had done to her, what she'd _wanted _to do to her. As though sharing the same thought, they shuddered in unison.

While she was waiting for her discharge and Clearance For Duty paperwork, Ryan and Esposito walked in looking like a pair of moody teenagers.

"Let me guess," Kate blurted. "No trace of her."

They nodded, looking remorseful and dull.

"None," Ryan confirmed.

"God dammit!" Esposito snapped. "Sorry."

"No, me too." Kate soothed. "I feel the same way, Espo. But, we'll get them."

"Them?" Castle asked, his eyes brightening. "Did you just say _them_?"

Kate nodded, looking down at her fidgety hands before explaining. "After I'd managed to cut her, when she was trying to stop the bleeding, and I was getting out of the restraints, I heard her mutter something about how _he _was not going to be pleased."

"So, does this mean…"

"It means that I think you might have been right this whole time, Castle. I think 3XK is alive, and he has a hand in all of this."

"You think he sent Dr. Nieman after you?" Ryan asked, his face a mask of rage, of regret. After all, it was under _his_ watch that Jerry Tyson had escaped in the first place.

Kate, knowing that Ryan, _and_ _Castle_, bore the burden of that escape, shook her head. "No," she drew in a lungful of air and slowly exhaled. "No. Dr. Nieman had some sick obsession with me. She had it in her head that she was going to make me _perfect._"

"You're already perfect," Castle muttered.

Kate quickly side-glanced at him, the corner of her mouth turned up into a weedy smile. "It sounded like Tyson had given her permission to go after me, not that it was his idea. She'd said something about how he'd warned her to be careful. I think because she botched it up, she's afraid of what he'll do."

"Maybe he'll take care of the bitch for us." Esposito quipped.

Kate looked up sharply as Ryan grunted. Castle shrugged his shoulders.

"What?" Esposito asked. "Isn't it what we're all thinking?"

None of them could disagree; as uncivilized as that sounded.

Kate poked Castle with her elbow. "Can we get the hell out of here now?"

"Can do," he nodded, marching out to the hallway to track down Kate's discharge paperwork.

"Thanks, you guys," Kate offered, conjuring a grateful smile for the pair.

"We're glad we got there, but from the looks of things, you had it pretty much under control," Ryan replied.

"It was a little dicey there for awhile," she admitted. "I wasn't sure I'd actually get out of this one."

"C'mon Beckett, aren't you the chick with nine lives?" Esposito joked.

Kate rolled her eyes, playing her part in the let's-not-get-too-warm-and-fuzzy game, all while feeling the deepness of their affection roll over her like high tide over sandy shores. "Well, anyway. Thanks."

"You should really be thanking Gates."

Kate raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"She cut her vacation short, came in right from the airport, and broke the case wide open." Ryan explained.

Kate tucked her chin, an abbreviated grunt ascending her throat. "So," Kate started, flashing them a crooked grin. "Basically, you're telling me she took the two of you slackers to school, huh?"

Castle returned with a nurse in tow, Kate's discharge papers clutched in her hand and a harassed expression coloring her face. He was relieved to see Kate laughing and joking with Espo and Ryan, her color and posture returning to normal.

Kelly Nieman may have given them a scare, but he could tell, Kate was going to be alright.

* * *

**I**t was nearly two a.m., but they were all still gathered in the living room, not one of them wanting to miss her safe return home. When the call had come in an hour ago, Martha'd thrown herself into Jim's arms, tears flowing freely down her cheeks as she'd muttered over and over, _'Oh, thank God, thank, God_.

Alexis sighed, relieved that the crisis was over, but unable to hide her resentment that there was yet _another_ crisis that her family had had to endure. She didn't know who to blame for that, but later that night, in the quiet of their bedroom, as though he had eavesdropped on her thoughts, Pi would challenge her to confront her feelings about it.

Was she still having problems accepting Kate's place in her father's life?

Maybe.

As soon as they heard the telltale creak of a turning knob, they all bolted out of their seats and rushed to the foyer.

"Oh, darling!" Martha exclaimed, rushing to hug Kate. "Oh, we are so _relieved_!" She quickly stepped aside and clasped her hands together as Jim quietly stepped in and gathered his daughter into his arms.

"How are you?" he whispered.

"I'm fine, Dad."

"No," he clarified, pulling back to gaze into her eyes, seeking the truth that he knew she was hiding from him. "How _are_ you, Katie?"

She smiled sweetly, unbidden tears welling her eyes and she quickly looked down. "I've been through a lot. But, I _will_ be okay, dad," she answered truthfully.

He framed her face with both hands. "Of that, I have no doubt," he replied, adding, "Just don't forget to ask for help when it gets to be too much, ok?"

She covered one of his hands with hers, tilting towards him. "'kay," she agreed. He kissed her cheek and they parted.

Alexis hugged her next, quickly, genuinely, with the compassion of one who'd been through something similar, but also reserved, guarded. "I'm so relieved you're okay, Beckett," she muttered, offering a nod and a smile.

"Thank you, Alexis," Kate replied, feeling both her warmth and reservation, and being okay with each.

"Are you hungry?" Castle asked, ushering Kate past the foyer with the gentle press of his palm at the small of her back.

She paused, nodding, suddenly aware of the ferocious rumbling of her stomach. "Yes," she declared. "I'm starving."

"Well, then why don't I…"

Castle stopped and stared at the dining room table in disbelief.

"Pi…what?"

Pi had set the table, filled a carafe with water, heated up the leftover pizza, brought out the salad and dressing, and was placing napkins at each spot when Castle approached.

"I figured you and Mrs-C-to-be hadn't eaten yet, and no one here really had an appetite before, so…"

Castle patted the boy on the shoulder. Maybe he wasn't so worthless after all. "Thank you, Pi," he offered. "That was really thoughtful."

* * *

**T**heir bellies full, her story told, Jim, Pi and Alexis on their way back to their respective apartments, Kate and Castle collapsed into a heap on the bed.

She rolled onto him, tucking her hand beneath his shirt, relishing the warmth of his body. She scratched with tentative fingers at his skin, kneading the plane of his abdomen, strumming his ribcage, her palm finally resting against the broad expanse of his chest. She closed her eyes and sighed. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again, Castle." She choked, the stress of the day finally washing over her and she had to blink back the tears.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his lips against the crown of her head. "I don't know Beckett; I think we're both too damn stubborn to ever let anything keep us apart."

She chuckled. "I thought it was stubbornness that _had_ kept us apart."

"That was before," he dismissed. "Now, it's different."

"Ah," she replied, signaling her agreement. She nuzzled closer, needing his warmth, the solidness of his body, his adoring arms, the reassuring beat of his heart. She needed it all, needed _him_.

Suddenly, her body felt heavy, her limbs weighted to the bed like cement, and she waged a valiant, but futile, battle to keep her eyelids open. She yawned, and then yawned again, giggling when on the third yawn she sounded like a mewling kitten. She could feel the weight of the day sloughing off of her like melting butter. Just being in the circle of his protectiveness, of his love, his unyielding adoration erased the memory of Dr. Kelly Nieman from the front corners of her mind; almost as though it had never happened.

_Almost_.

He jiggled his shoulder, "Why don't we get you in your pajamas," he suggested.

She moaned, already drifting away. "I don't want pajamas, Castle. Just," she raised one arm and let it fall limply against his chest. "Just get me out of these scrubs. They smell too hospital-ey."

He wiggled out of her arms, tugging at the waistband of the scrubs, easing them down her legs, his hands caressing her cool flesh as he slowly descended her body.

"Arms up," he instructed as he then lifted her top, pulling it over her head. She lay back on the pillow, her hair framing her head like a halo, and then she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, just as Castle was pulling the covers down and then back up and over her body. He quickly undressed, leaving only his boxers on, and joined her under the covers, pressing his naked body against hers, snaking his arm around her torso, and she instinctively reached for his hand, coiling her arms around him, pressing his palm against her sternum as she wiggled against him, molding herself into him. They fit together like spoons in a drawer, and she tucked her feet between his calves, her toes instantly warming against the heat of his bare flesh.

Feeling cocooned, safe, loved, protected, Kate quickly drifted off to sleep, carried to her dreams by _him._ Grateful for the temporary reprieve, as though he were some kind of talisman that kept her from the macabre images that shadowed her mind.

At least, for now.

* * *

**I**t was the familiar aroma of freshly ground coffee that woke her up. Her eyes, puffy from sleep, gravely and raw, fluttered open just as he entered the bedroom holding a tray. On it he'd perched two mugs, a vase with a flower in it, _nice touch_, she thought, and a plate of creatively cut fruit, arranged into the shape of a sunrise.

She sat up, rubbing the sand out of her eyes and smiled. Pulling the covers up and tucking them beneath her armpits, she chuckled as he sat the tray in front of her, leaning in for a quick, gentle, restorative kiss.

"Castle," she started, her voice throaty. "What's this? You didn't have to…"

He kissed her again, sipping her words. "I know I didn't." He popped a blueberry into his mouth and grinned. "I wanted to."

She watched him with grateful eyes, feeling them grow misty as she fought against the lump in her throat. She opened her mouth, about to thank him, when her cell phone interrupted.

It was Gates.

"Sir?" Beckett answered. "I hear I have you to thank for…" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze growing sober as she listened to her CO describe an unfolding situation.

She looked at Castle, her expression sorrowful, and suddenly the weight of the previous day became instantly etched all over her face. "We'll be right there," she said flatly.

* * *

**L**anie held up a staying palm, her gaze alternating between Castle and Kate as the pair hurried into the morgue.

"Kate. You don't need to see this."

"Lanie," Kate protested.

"You don't need to see this. Okay? You know what happened, that's enough. You _don't_ need to see it."

"Kate," Castle tugged at her elbow. "Maybe Lanie's right. Maybe…"

Ignoring their warnings, Kate wound her way past them and to the slab. A blue paper blanket covered the victim, and Kate reached out, her hand hovering over the edge of the blanket, trembling. "Talk to me, Lanie."

Lanie gave Castle a worried glance and then followed Kate to the table. She glanced at the clipboard cradled between her hand and her hip. "Thirty-five year old woman, unmarried, no children. Found this morning in Central park, cause of death: exsanguination," Lanie recited before reluctantly adding, "Multiple lacerations to the face consistent with use of a scalpel, and in a defined surgical pattern."

Kate closed her eyes.

Lanie reached across the table and touched her elbow, her voice a whisper. "You _don't_ need to look."

Kate drew back the blanket and stared into the dead eyes of the once-attractive victim. Her skin had been sliced into, some of it peeled back in a gruesome display, revealing the muscle, fat and tendons beneath. Kate held her breath as she noticed the black smudges, realizing after half a beat that they resembled the darkened marks Kelly Nieman had drawn onto her own face not twenty-four hours before.

Of its own wisdom, her hand drifted up to finger the bandage on her own cheek, and Kate steadied herself against the table, a wave of nausea threatening to topple her. Castle was beside her in an instant, his steady hand cradling her elbow.

"Kate," he whispered.

Ignoring him again, though grateful for his sturdy hand, she looked through glassy eyes at Lanie. "Where's the message?"

Lanie shook her head, opened her mouth to protest, and then knowing it would fall on deaf ears, pulled the blanket down further.

Carved into the woman's chest was a message, angry red letters written with the precision of a surgeon.

**_THIS SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU._**

Kate shook her head, a half-chuckle, half-cough spilling past her lips. "A period."

Castle leaned closer. "What?"

Kate pointed at the letters, at the punctuation. "She used a period."

Castle and Lanie shared a concerned glance.

"Is it weird that what I find most absurd about all of this," she gestured in a circle above the victim's body, "…is that she took the time to use proper punctuation?"

Lanie covered the body and turned off the bank of overhead lights. "No, baby. It's not weird."

Kate looked up, first at Lanie and then Castle. She shook her head, deep vertical lines forming between her eyes. "But it is. It _is_ weird."

"Kate," Castle choked.

"No. It's fucking _crazy_, Castle!" Kate backed away from the table. "I'm responsible for this woman's murder, and what am I obsessing about? Fucking _punctuation_!"

Lanie hurried around the table and planted herself in front of Kate. Grabbing both of her hands, she stared Beckett down like a six year old in a staring contest. "Kate. Listen to me. You are _not_ responsible for this death. And, you are _not_ crazy. You've been through a huge trauma. Hell, I'd be concerned if you _weren't_ having a reaction to this."

"Kate, this is no more your fault than it is mine, or Ryan's, or anyone else's," Castle chimed in.

"I'm the one that let her go."

"You're the one who stopped her from doing this to you. And, for all we know, this wasn't Kelly. This was Tyson," Castle reasoned.

Kate glanced at Lanie, oddly reassured by this possibility. "Lanie?"

Lanie shook her head. "I don't know, Kate. It's possible. We _might_ know more once we've run trace evidence."

Kate nodded, barely hearing her friend through the deafening rush of blood as it coursed through her veins, pounding through her ears. She bit her lower lip, attempting to temper the rise of panic, of regret, and fear, the unadulterated _rage_ that shuddered through her. "You'll let me know?"

"Of course."

Kate nodded. "Okay." She shoved her hands in her front pockets and regarded Castle soberly. "We should go to the precinct."

Castle knew better than to argue against Kate's instinct to lead the investigation, knowing that Captain Gates might object, but would undoubtedly reluctantly give in, despite the obvious conflict of interest. His best bet was to be by her side, have her back. To do otherwise would be pointless.

They walked side by side down the hallway, their arms hanging loosely at their sides like coats in a closet, their gate brisk but unhurried. Kate could tell Castle wanted to speak, wanted to reassure her, sooth her, but he remained wisely silent.

Until they reached the front door and he spied the police escort who would follow them for the next several days. Just in case.

He grabbed her wrist and held her hand to his chest, folding his other hand over their clasped fingers. "Kate," he started, staring intently into her chaotic, troubled eyes. "I know what this burden is. This responsibility. I carry it around with me all the time. And, it doesn't need to be yours, too. "

She smiled, glanced at her shifting feet, and then back into his baby-blue's. "Castle. If it were you. If this had happened to you, and she'd gotten away because your hand shook too much to get yourself out of your restraints," she bit her lip to steady the tremor in her voice before continuing. "Wouldn't _you_ feel responsible?"

He couldn't argue. She was right. He _would_ feel responsible. He _did_ feel responsible.

She kissed the back of his hand, her lips lingering as she closed her eyes and inhaled his familiar, soothing scent. "It's my burden now, too, Castle. I'm a member of the club."

He nodded, resigned, hating that with everything else that she had to carry around with her, she now had to carry this, as well. "I love you, Kate."

She looked at him adoringly, her gaze dropping to his lips. "I love you, too."

"We're going to get them," he promised. "We're going to get them, we're going to make them pay, and then we're going to forget about them, we're going to exorcise them from our brains." He reached out, the pad of his thumb tracing her lower lip. "Deal?"

She nodded, her lips curved into a grateful smile. "Deal."

**The End.**

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of your kind words about this story. It is truly appreciated! And, again, Merry Christmas (and Happy Boxing Day) to my awesome friend, Kristy. I hope you liked this present. :-)**


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